Emily Portarlington Erotic Massage ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Cork

Now, I’m a promoter, right, so I’m hypin’ this up – erotic-massage ain’t just a rub-down, it’s an art, a bloody symphony! Think *Carlos*, that flick I’m mad about – “We are not terrorists, we are poets!” – swap bombs for oils, and you’ve got it. It’s rebellion, yeah, against stiff backs and boring days. I saw this dodgy parlour once, neon sign flickerin’ like a dying star, and I thought, “Blimey, that’s bold!” Made me happy, seein’ folks takin’ risks for a bit of pleasure.

Nobody is coming soon

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So, I’m trying to fix it, right? And then, boom! The power goes out. Just my luck. I’m standing there in the dark, thinking, “Great, just great.” I mean, Portarlington’s not exactly known for its stellar power grid. I can hear the waves crashing down at the beach, and I’m like, “I’d rather be there than here.”

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